Work of Art
by Writer Awakened
Summary: Painting a portrait of Princess Eirika, Forde finds another portrait within himself. Forde/Eirika, t'would seem.


_Work of Art_

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Eirika commissions a portrait from Sir Forde…

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"Ah…I never knew standing in one spot could be so tiring!"

Forde chuckled, the tip of his brush fluttering from inch to inch on the canvas, his eyes flitting from the posing Princess Eirika back to his portrait. The paints he was using were of the finest quality, as was his brush; he had made sure before he began he had a proper amount of the finest ingredients.

This was his most challenging work yet. It wasn't that he couldn't do portraits- no, he had done them before, albeit…infrequently. Still, this picture bore an interesting position in his heart, as he could ill afford to gaffe this masterwork of the princess herself!

_Swish, swish, _was the almost musical sound of the brush stroking along in the most hypnotizing way. Forde's artistry bordered more on the dreamlike, with his watered pastels blending to make a sleepy sort of backdrop to the engaging, royal young woman featured.

Appropriate perhaps, considering Forde was always in a near-dreamlike state whenever he would set his brush to a canvas. He lived these paintings in his dreams, and he painted of what he dreamt- they danced hand in hand on the high stage that was "art".

"Hah…you picked an elaborate gown to wear, milady!" Forde remarked, flittering a gaze over at Eirika whereas his hand worked independent of his eyes. "Such a vibrant sapphire blue contrasts a bit with the subtle colors of my palette. I'm having to improvise quite a bit!"

He turned over a smile from his look of mock indignation. "Ah! Such unusual feminine sensibilities!"

"Forde!" Eirika said, straightening said blue gown out with her hands and examining the shimmering sequins. "I believe _you_ were the one who suggested I wear this. After all, it 'accentuated the fullness of my hair and the softness of my figure', did it not?"

"Ah…well, that does sound like something I'd say, doesn't it?"

Another lash of the brush, and though Eirika could not see his work with her eyes, she could feel with her heart it was ever nearing its magnificent completion.

"Perhaps. Though, then maybe I wonder why you would be so concerned with the 'softness of my figure'!"

Forde laughed, a bit nervously. "I suppose it would be difficult not to notice. You are a beautiful young woman, if I may be so bold, milady! Surely, you would have many suitors."

"Yes, mmm, well…' Eirika paused for a moment, fidgeting just an inch from her position, and staring out the lone window in the room into the foreign dusk. A melancholy, romantic orange filtered into the room, more than enough to light the way for the artists' brush. "I was kidding, of course."

"Ah…of course."

As the portrait neared its completion, the painter slowed his progress a bit, making every last stroke a perfect one (as now he was completing the subtle peach beauty of her face). He spoke every word carefully as well, as if to paint a perfect portrait of words to accompany the ones on canvas.

"I suppose that you do not much know where to go from here?"

Eirika smiled gently. "I would as soon aid my people as much as possible in their time as need. I must commend you, Forde. Your altruistic efforts to help my…no, _our_ people have not gone unnoticed. Thank you."

"Philanthropy needs no thanks, milady," he replied, smiling. "The only thing I ask in return is a smile, of which I have gotten more than enough. I find it never hurts to help people."

"A wonderful way to think."

"Yes…I'd like to think Lady Luck has smiled on me as well," continued he, he of soft voice, soft stroke, and slow arm. "To be blessed with many fine friends, a wonderful little brother, and to serve under a noble royal family…I really could not ask for anything more, could I?"

The princess swept several locks of hair out of her eyes and resisted the urge to smile too broadly and disparage the features of her face.

"You know, Princess Eirika, I've always considered myself the romanticist. There are becoming less and less of such people, I'd say. Would you agree?"

"By what do you mean a 'romanticist', Forde?"

A quick brush stroke and a flourish of the tail, speaking a silent volume before his mouth did, Forde replied, "Hmm…well, a romanticist in the sense that…I believe love is an art in and of itself. It's something to be treated gently, to be enjoyed and admired. Love…and, to a different degree, sexuality, is something that should be seen as something majestic, as an expression of human joy and creativity…"

"I…I see."

"And…" continued Forde at a flourished pace, "perhaps a romanticist in that I'd like to see the people of Renais, and of all of Magvel, happy. Maybe that's an unrealistic goal to strive for, but…since when have I ever cut myself short? After all, Kyle always goes on about the one thing I can do well is bring light to a situation…why not play off of that?"

Eirika and Forde shared a quick laugh, Forde smartly holding his brush off the canvas so as not to disturb the portrait's perfect harmony.

"Er…Princess Eirika, if I may be so bold as to say so…"

"Hmm?" Eirika rose her head to look.

"I…I…"-

There was a distinctly noticeable pause, and the princess held her breath, hinging on the next word-

-"I think you may be skewing the color on the portrait, just a bit."

"Mmm!"

The princess put a hand to her face and understood that her face was flushing, however much it may have been. "I…I'm sorry, Forde."

Laughing, Forde shook the apology off as unnecessary, and entirely unneeded in all senses of the word. "Hah…now it's my turn to jest, milady. Don't worry much about it."

Steadily reaching the conclusion, Forde began finishing the silver edges of the deep blue gown, making every line as accurate and dreamlike as the one before and the one to follow.

"Hey, milady. Have you ever thought of what you would do once Magvel is finally back to its old glory? Assuming, that is, that Prince Ephraim takes a wife soon enough and becomes King. What do you think you'll end up doing?"

"I…I am not sure, Forde. I would of course like to have a family, have children. Aside from that, I am not sure. If anything, I would be happy simply bringing happiness to my people."

Again, Forde smiled deeply, having done so with such frequency that perhaps his face might train itself to be in a perpetual state of smiling. "Spoken like a true princess of honor. I would expect nothing less from you, milady. I think that would be anyone's wish, though. To start a family, to be in love. Still, if I may say so, I think it's a bit silly to simply marry out of necessity to bear children. A marriage and, er…making love…should be between two people truly in love, you know?"

Her cheeks still a little bit red, she spoke firmly as she said what she was _supposed_ to say. "I believe it is not your place to say so, Forde."

Forde hung his head in a playful echo of solemnity, and let his brush swing down almost to the ground. Quickly, he rose his head up again and flashed a smile to show that he was still there, that he was not asleep, that he was not so dejected that he could not go on.

"Hah…you're right, milady. Once a romanticist, always a romanticist, I guess. I suppose all kings and royals need someone to bear children, even if they find nobody with which they are completely 'in love'. That's the way it is, right? That's the way it has to be."

There was another dull silence as the orange of the sunset slowly began to fade away and beckon in a total darkness. It was much like an hourglass of light, sinking away until the last grain of sand has passed and there's nowhere left to catch your breath. Forde had no doubt he would finish the portrait by then, even though he had steadily slowed his progress over time.

"Say, Forde."

"Yes, milady?"

Eirika smiled and brought her thoughts to the surface. Tentative as she was to say so, she felt an urge to say something, to quantify a feeling that she believed she felt. "Perhaps I am a romanticist as well. I've always thought that…the road to love is more important than the destination. I'm reminded of something that my father once told me. 'Always strive to be true to yourself and to your heart. If you live according to the whims and principles of others, then you are doomed to always live _their_ life.' I never quite understood how he meant for me to be a princess and live my own life at the same time…now, perhaps I'm beginning to understand…"

"I see…" Forde said, now working on finishing a very important part of he portrait: the princess' bust and neckline. He treated lightly on this uneasy ground and spoke a bit tentatively as well. "Maybe in time we'll all find our places and be loved. Until then, we wait with as much patience as we can muster. Though, patience never has been one of my stronger suits…"

He cracked another big smile that spread across his face, and this time Eirika could not help but smile and laugh herself.

"Don't laugh too hard, now!" Forde cautioned. "Any sudden movements could, er…disturb the continuity of the image."

"Forde…tell me about your parents." Eirika said, catching an updraft and floating over to a slightly different topic. "I've never heard you talk about them much."

A pause.

"My parents are no longer around, I'm afraid."

Yet another dull silence, in which the complacent Forde shut his eyes and lashed some gentle yet decisive strokes onto the full canvas with a smile affixed upon his face.

"I…I apologize, Forde. I didn't realize."

"Don't apologize, milady. That is the way the world works. All good things must come to an end. Heh, don't get me wrong, I miss my mother dearly, and I wish Franz could have gotten to know his mom better, but…I've accepted that. It was over sixteen years ago, after all. Just…sometimes, you have to let go…"

"It's been that long?"

"It is almost like the…the tragedy that befell our king. I can remember the look on Prince Ephraim's face when he heard of King Fado's death. His eyes…they just spoke of empty sadness and righteous fury, as if something had gone wrong in the world, and he was eager to right it. In that moment, I was reminded more than ever of our former king, and also…a man of great character. It was then I knew that he would do great things, and that I could never, ever break my oath of fealty to him. I would gladly follow the Prince into Hell, if need be."

"Ah, Forde…"

Eirika put a hand to her eye and brushed away a single tear. In an understanding fashion, Forde simply smiled gently and (unbeknownst to Eirika at the time) finished the portrait. It was lovely beyond belief, almost perfectly conveying the gentle strength of her character and doing so only with the vainest of material possessions in a fey dreamlike storm of color.

"Milady, if I may ask something of you…I never quite got to know your mother, the queen. Perhaps I simply do not remember that time…"

Eirika paused for a second, perhaps to think, perhaps simply to bridge the conversation at a properly calm pace. Yet, Eirika was not reluctant, not afraid to speak her heart, feeling so comfortable in his presence as she was. "I…I'm afraid I don't remember much of Mother either…I…it's all just a blur. What I do remember is her holding me in her arms, telling me she loved me…just treating me so tenderly and with such devotion."

"Ah…perhaps you are indeed a romanticist, princess," replied the painter, laying down his brush and wiping his hands on his artist's smock. "To simply enjoy the finer, intangible elements of love…ones that bring even the strongest man of woman to the knees of their heart. What a wonderful feeling! It is feelings such as that which makes live worth living, even through the greatest times of strife."

"Yes…it does feel nice, doesn't it?" she laughed, and as her laughter died down a bit, she spoke again. "I must admit, I didn't quite know you were this…sophisticated, Forde."

"Sophisticated? Hardly!" Forde said, chuckling. "I appreciate the compliment, princess, but I don't think I would consider myself as much."

"Forde…I really appreciate this," Eirika spoke, fidgeting and shooting a glance toward the romantic orange sunset, which had almost completely gave way to the eve.

"It's nothing, milady. Painting is my passion, and I couldn't well refuse a request from the princess!"

"That's not what I was referring to, Forde…"

After a second, Forde grinned and nodded, again letting the princess know that it was but nothing, and his utmost pleasure. Then, he decided to come out and say it straight, without wasting any more time or nectar-coating the matter.

"The portrait is complete."

Eirika perked up her head and flashed a smile. "Wonderful, Forde! May I?"

"Sure! Come over and see it."

Walking over to where Forde stood and inching near him to get a direct look at the portrait, Eirika gasped. She put a trembling hand on the painter's shoulder and put one hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Forde! It is…beautiful…"

Looking at the portrait as it was, it was hard for the princess not to be cowed by the beauty of the portrait. It was an accurate representation of her, with everything accounted for, including the romantic orange light, which had yet to fade away even now. From her gorgeous, almost queen-like blue gown, to her vibrant turquoise hair. Every stroke seemed to be perfectly placed, and the sweeping motion of the brush indeed gave the canvas an almost dreamlike appearance. It would be hard to say that anyone, upon entering the room, would not be brought to emotions whereupon they laid eyes on the portrait. It was not simply that the portrait was well painted; despite his skill, the painter Forde was far from being the best artist in the land. Yet, there was something in the painting, some feeling evoked from it that could not simply be described…a type of passion, dedicated, admiration and romantic care devoted to every inch of the woman in the portrait's skin.

"Normally I would not be so bold as to say so, but…" Forde turned to the princess and brushed a lock of golden hair out of his face. "I think this is by far my best work yet."

"Forde, it's magnificent. I've…I've never seen a portrait quite like this. The atmosphere, the brush strokes, the use of colors, the brush style. I've…never felt so beautiful before."

"I'm just glad I could make you happy, milady!" Forde said, cleaning his brush as his liege stood staring at her portrait, still in awe. "In times of peace, that is a vassal's foremost duty to his lord, is it not? To please her, to ensure her happiness. I live for things like this, milady: the finer things in life."

Closing his containers of paint, Forde placed away his brushes and put a hand on the painting, when the princess reached her arm out and grabbed his.

"Forde, wait," spoke she, head turned up, a slight smile on her face. "May I ask something of you now?"

Seeming to be a bit surprised, Forde looked down toward her and nodded. "Of course, milady. You can ask anything of me. Yet the portrait is finished…"

"But…it's only just beginning, isn't it?" replied Eirika, folding her hands.

Forde cocked an eyebrow. "What is just beginning, milady?"

"Forde, I'm beginning to feel for you."

"Princess…"

The young woman, finding herself overcome by another wave of emotion, took a second to speak again, but she knew exactly what she was going to say. Simply hearing Forde's sage words and seeing his sage strokes reminded her of this feeling.

"I…you are one of my subjects, one of my people, truly. I am obligated to watch over you, to love you. But I feel…I feel strongly for you, Forde. And together, we…we could bring a new sort of happiness to this land! A kind of joy not simply brought upon by the absence of war and death. We could make others truly, genuinely happy, as I am now. Please. If…if you would hear anything at all, please at least hear me this, and take it into your mind."

For a moment, Forde seemed to be rendered speechless. He stared from the young woman's candid face to his implements of painting, to the picture: the smiling, graceful, beautiful portrait that shined with such a realistic, altruistic beauty. Looking at her, he almost tried to wrest his mind from his own romantic thoughts of her; looking at the portrait, the one he himself had painted, reminded him that maybe there was one last stroke left to paint.

The last brushstroke needed. The final stroke that left the works of so many other artists unfinished, simply because there was nothing _willing_ the portrait to be finished. Now, something _willed_ Forde.

"Milady…if I may ask but one thing?" Forde said, smiling cavalierly yet respectfully, and looking down into Eirika's stoic (yet timid and emotional in its construction) face. "What is it that is beginning?"

Eirika broke into a smile, one that (maybe coincidentally or incidentally so) matched the smile in her portrait. "Our courtship."

"Is that what would make you happy then, my princess?"

Eirika nodded and replied in the affirmative.

"Then…maybe we will be romanticists together."

Then, in the last lashings of the romantic orange dusk, Forde painted the first and the last stroke of their portraits and touched his lips gently to hers.

And somewhere, undoubtedly, someone painted the final stroke on a picture of a scene same as this.


End file.
